


alouette, gentille alouette

by Ebenaceae



Series: dark horse running [1]
Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Emotional Manipulation, Gothic, Historical Fantasy, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Other, Unhealthy Relationships, Vampires, sorry Caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebenaceae/pseuds/Ebenaceae
Summary: 19th century Windenburg.Caleb and Lilith Vatore, previously Salvadori, did not become vampires understanding exactly what they were getting into. It was supposed to be for adventure.For Caleb specifically, it was supposed to be for Helena. Helena, the vampire who flooded his mind like the sea and swept him into her depths. If only he had drowned instead.a.k.a, how the Vatores became vampires.
Relationships: Caleb Vatore/Miss Hell
Series: dark horse running [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744036
Comments: 17
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alouette, gentille alouette // Alouette, je te plumerai
> 
> dark horse running got an amazing reception, and I'm so thankful that people liked it. I planned to write a sequel with a prologue chapter—this fic was supposed to be that singular chapter, but it turns out I wanted to fill a lot more lore than one chapter had space for. I decided to make it into a whole 2-chaptered fic on its own, leading to this.
> 
> This is just a backstory fic, so it's not required to read DHR prior to this one. Likewise, DHR can also be read as a standalone. I just really wanted to write some Caleb lore.  
> That being said, I'm sorry if you're here for Caleb/Morgyn—this fic instead focuses on Caleb's relationship with his vampire parent, Miss Hell (Helena). Although I tagged it Caleb/Helena, their relationship is not a very good one (and obviously cannot last).
> 
> Chapter content warnings:  
> Emotional manipulation, using magic to make someone fall in love, NO sexual content, vampire-typical blood/death stuff. I tried to keep things nonexplicit.

Caleb Salvadori was the latest dandy to grace Windenburg’s shores. The man was handsome and spry and unrelentingly gregarious as he flitted around the city. He was well-received at the student cafés in which he met his friends, and was a favourite at the salons held by their fiancées; perhaps too popular, with foreign wit and charm that drew some mens’ ire, but the ladies insisted that he stayed. He prided himself for being at the height of men's fashion, with his long hair and brightly coloured brocade suits; he admired the expensive and the flashy, called it _being cultured._ He should know—after all, he claimed that back in their home country, his family was one of the most _cultured_ of them all. 

However, Caleb would be the first one to admit that he was easily outperformed in most regards by one person in particular—his own sister. Lilith Salvadori was a debutante who could easily take Windenburg by storm, if only their parents would allow her. They were stricter with her, so she might one day take over their business, but her heart was of a socialite’s. The odd time she could escape, she drank in the attention that she commanded with her presence. It didn’t hurt that she could just as easily slip into conversations about business and gain yet another investor before the night was through. The twins fit quite well in their new city despite having moved there only a couple years prior; they were a whirlwind that tore through the bars and estates and bedrooms of whomever would give them an audience.

It was a shame they died so young. Their parents, too.

The Salvadori family dealt in mercantilism back in the old country, large and well-known but not the ruling merchants. Monte was one of many brothers and cousins, but in his later years he took his share and decided that expansion was the right direction to take the business. He packed up Sybil and the kids—Lilith as his heir, Caleb as his spare—and they set off into fresh territory. That was five years past. Monte had been correct after all; business bloomed, and soon they were quickly gaining affluence to perhaps rival even the Shallots and Villareals. It allowed them luxuries: their own estate and gardens on Windenburg’s hills, silk from Shang Simla, imported nectar for their parties. And by God, did the twins love their parties. It’s where they met the most interesting of people… for better and for worse.

The twins were in the midst of celebrating their 26th year when they met Helena. It was a relatively small evening get-together, only about a hundred invitees, plus a handful of crashers. The twins didn’t mind; the more the merrier, especially if they brought gifts—or at least good conversation. Nobody had noticed Helena at first anyway, with her nondescript frame and mousey brown bun. 

Or maybe it was the occultic magic that surrounded her, obscured her, until she was able to saddle right up to her prey.

“Don’t look now, but the man in the checkered overcoat looks like he’s about to _eat_ you,” she murmured into Caleb’s ear.

Caleb didn’t so much as flinch; he was far too buzzed for that, and was relatively used to people whispering sweet nothings to him. He did, however, raise a brow at the newcomer. He didn't recognize her, she didn't stand out. Her evening dress was a plain maroon but notably well-made, and her jewels did look real, so she couldn't have been a serving girl. She held a devilish smile and an unrelenting gaze. It made him shiver. He downed the rest of his drink before responding.

Without having to look at his supposed admirer, he asked; “Dark hair, beard?” The woman nodded. “Not bad,” he mused, shrugging. “He’s been on a steady mission to seduce me for the last two weeks. It seems that he believes I’m a demure, wilting thing. That I don't notice what he's trying to do. I just think it's funny, mostly." He looked up and scanned the room for a moment, eyes landing on two women across the way. He tilted his head towards them. "If you look over to Lilith you'll see his wife fuming with rage," he smirked. "She's been dropping her kerchiefs at my feet for, oh, who can say how long? Poor thing tries so hard."

"Awfully popular, aren't you? Don't suppose it's gotten to your head?" The woman said, with a solid, steady stare. 

"Relatively. As much as anyone else here, I suppose. I simply enjoy being around people, and I'm hardly to blame if they enjoy me."

"Like the man in the checkers, yes? I can feel his desperation from here." The woman turned her head towards the man in question and narrowed her eyes. It reminded him of a cat’s unrelenting focus, Caleb decided, entirely unnerving but… a captivating image. 

She continued, "I have a peculiar feeling that he's going to approach you later in the evening. Hand you a drink, attempt to lead you into the hedges. Or something like that. What will you say, do you think?"

Caleb blinked dumbly. Something felt wrong, but whiskey clouded his mind, and he couldn't seem to tear away from her.

"I'm sorry. What did you say your name was?" 

"Helena. It's a pleasure, Caleb. Happy birthday." She laughed boisterously, and her perfectly straight teeth glinted sharply in the candlelight.

Caleb looked around the room again, trying to spot Lilith in the crowd to anchor himself, but when he turned to Helena again—she was gone.

*

It was quarter to twelve when Bernard Shallot came up to Caleb, drinks in hand. He had shed his gaudy coat and was already starting to tug at his tie, saddling up to the younger Salvadori sibling. 

He leaned into Caleb's space as nonchalantly as he could to whisper, "I wonder if you'd look so heavenly in the moonlit gardens as you do under these dying flames. Shall we find out?"

Caleb's head swam, and all he could think of was Helena cackling in his ear.

*

Helena turned out to be a dear friend, despite her peculiar ways. She was dark and brooding and was only available at night. Not a problem for Caleb, who preferred the nightlife anyway. She had a knack for guessing people’s feelings and could even guess their intentions sometimes, which, yes, he could admit was fairly odd. But some people were inclined towards those sort of emotional things. 

But then there was the fact that nobody knew who she was. Only Caleb and Lilith could really remember her; others had difficulty placing her name to a face even when Caleb was positive they had interacted before. She was clearly well-off, if her dress was of any indication. A traveller, perhaps—except her accent was of any Windenburg native he had ever met.

But it was fine. Really, Caleb didn’t mind. Helena was charming and particularly beguiling in a way that he couldn’t explain; when he looked at her, he felt an unrelenting allure to her. It was like an ensnaring aura that he just couldn’t get enough of. He was trying to court her, but it never felt like any of his intentions were coming through. He supposed he'd just have to try harder, despite already doing his best. He was always the first one to wax poetic that she was ethereally beautiful. And incredibly funny, and wickedly smart. 

Mysterious, too.

She was leading him around Windenburg’s port area. He had dressed quite formally—gentlemanly, in his mind—in blue-green silk with a matching tophat. Helena had a penchant for darker colours, blacks and reds, and Caleb would gently tease and ask if she was in perpetual mourning. Her arm in his, they were an odd-looking pair, especially as Helena navigated the salt-stained alleyways of the port like she knew them by heart. He had no idea how she could; a woman of her grace had no reason to be around these parts. But it was _exciting_ and Caleb loved nothing more than adventure. 

“So we’re off to watch the ships sail off into the moonlight?” He suggested, smiling gently.

She laughed, lifting a lithe gloved hand to her chest. “Oh, better than that, my dear. I thought I might show you my home.”

Caleb’s heart did somersaults in his chest, almost tripping on the cobblestones. Perhaps she had known all along—! 

She giggled at his fumbling. “Careful, now. You won’t want to scuff your shoes here, of all places. It’s filthy.”

“If that’s so, why do you live here?” Caleb wondered.

Helena’s eyes shined when she turned to him; figuratively and literally, almost like a cat’s. Caleb had never seen anything like it. “I like the food and the people,” she grinned.

“Ah.” Caleb swallowed thickly. “Fresh seafood is good for the heart, I suppose.”

“You look frightened.”

“I am not,” Caleb bristled. 

“It’s okay. I understand; the docks can be so dangerous at night,” Helena mused. She held onto Caleb tighter. “I’m glad you’re here to protect me.”

Caleb’s confidence quickly returned, as he straightened his back and patted her hand. “You will _always_ be safe with me,” he promised. She hummed in response.

Helena led them into a little hole-in-the-wall which was by all standards, ghastly. Entirely unbefitting of his lady. Inside, though, was entirely different. It was small, yes, but its furnishings were lavish. Antique carved wood furniture, gilded portraits hanging on plush walls… the whole place felt rich, but it also felt very old. Caleb could tell that some of those paintings had styles that had fallen out of style ages ago. Yet the women in them looked so familiar.

“Caleb, dear,” Helena sang. Her voice broke Caleb’s thoughts, and he instinctively moved towards it. “Do you want to know why I’ve brought you here?”

“I have my ideas,” he purred. Helena had sat on a fainting couch, and patted the spot beside her, beckoning him. He complied.

“I want you to know how important you are to me, you know,” she croons. Her hand goes to his hair, petting it. “You’ve been such an excellent friend.” 

“I can be more than that, you know.”

“I do,” she nods. “That’s why I think you’re ready to… meet my other friends. Be introduced to our little club.” 

“Sounds exclusive,” Caleb says with appreciation. “What are the initiation rules?”

“Caleb, what do you know of the paranormal?”

Caleb pauses, thinking for a moment with a fond smile. “A little. Stories of ghosts, of mermaids. All very cute.” 

“Cute!” Helena looks offended as she gives a _hmph,_ retracting her hand and letting it lie over the back of the couch. “It’s not cute. What if I told you it’s more than that?”

Caleb raised his brows in surprise as he realized what Helena was getting at. “Ah. You’re occultists.” He hummed, thinking of all the fantastical stories he’s heard from such enthusiasts, a little excited. “I’ve never met one before! But I’ve always had an interest in seeing the, ah, seances, psychic phenomena—”

A strong grip took Caleb’s shoulders and pinned him roughly down on the couch. His head swam; all he could focus on Helena’s yellow glowing eyes.

“I’m not an _occultist,_ you idiot,” she hissed, canines growing long and sharp. “I _am_ the occult.”

Caleb had let Helena lead him thus far. He’d let her take control again, as she threw him into the cold, ugly world of vampirism.

But for all its horror, Caleb just couldn’t look away. 

*

There were more vampires in Windenburg. Not many, as he learned they all had their own territories around the country, but there were enough to keep Caleb on his toes. Some of them he met—again, not many, as Caleb’s plasma was too hot and tempting under his thin veins. But the few he did meet were all as terrifying as the last. 

He started to spend more time with them than any of his other companions. His interest dried in the cafés and parties while his interests in the paranormal swelled. The vampires he met were incredibly intelligent, some having centuries of knowledge otherwise long forgotten, and Caleb was enthralled by it all. It was fine by them, especially as he became of use to them. Helena called Caleb her human familiar. He found himself compelled to help her out with her paranormal duties—out of love and compassion. He did love her dearly, he just wished she’d return those affections… still, he stood stalwart for her. Even when that did mean bringing dinner for her and her club. _Coven,_ she called it. 

He tried to forget about the vagrants he brought them. Turns out, he wasn’t just helping them, but their leader, too. The oldest vampire in the country, who lived just outside of civilization in a little hollow, forgotten by humans. Helena laughed when she smelt Caleb’s fear, the first time she told him. More powerful than you could ever imagine, she said. Could eat you up like nothing, she promised. It did scare him to think that there was such a being out there, allowing cities like Windenburg and Britechester to exist to sustain his fodder. He was getting used to the idea, though. Helena called him silly at first, then she kissed his forehead, and suddenly all his worries melted away. It would be fine. They would be fine.

He would be absolutely fine. 

*

Caleb was not fine. The way Helena spoke about her master made his blood _boil._ He could do better for her, he would do anything for her. He _was_ doing _everything_ for her. 

“Oh, Caleb,” she crooned. “You’re simply amazing, you know that?” They sat in her study, after Helena finally convinced him to calm down after a particularly bad outburst. She pet his hand soothingly. “So dedicated and brave. You know you can’t beat Vladislaus, but thank you. You humans…” she sighs. “I just wish you’d be here to help me forever.” 

An idea planted in Caleb’s mind, then. 

Forever, she said.

 _Forever,_ as Caleb learned, was entirely possible.

*

All the while, Caleb was losing time. Days bled past without interest. Blemishes would appear on his body, and when he looked into the mirror, he simply couldn’t imagine how he got them. Cuts and bruises on his knuckles, his arms, his collar. 

Once, he had lost a full week. It was a Monday, but next thing he knew, his mother was asking him to attend Sunday service.

Not asking—it was begging, Caleb noticed. Had he been skipping many?

He started wearing higher collars, longer sleeves, and gloves even when he didn’t need to.

But he’d slip up eventually.

*

“You _bastard!”_ Lilith cried, throwing the first thing she could get her hands on. A plate flew through the air and narrowly missed Caleb, shattering into a starfield of porcelain on their dining room wall. _“That’s_ where you’ve been all this time? With _monsters!”_

“They’re not monsters, Lilith!” Another plate; one Caleb had to duck for. He rushed towards her, trying to grab her wrists.

“Don’t touch me! They’re the dead, Caleb, they’re not—they shouldn’t even be real,” she gasped, still in shock. 

It was only a matter of time before she found out, really. It’s not that he wasn’t going to tell Lilith, it’s just that he was too scared to. But Lilith, the proactive and protective older twin that she was, had followed him on one of his nights out. She stalked him through the streets like the vampires did prey, and she had interrupted one of Helena’s feedings. 

Lilith’s scream still rang in Caleb’s ears.

“They’re good people, Lilith. They’re good, it’s good,” he pleaded, his grip firm on her. She struggled against him, trying to pull away. “Please don’t be scared.”

At some point, Lilith had started to cry. Her watery brown eyes were spilling over into steady streams. “She was—she was eating him—” 

“She wasn’t _eating_ him, Lily,” Caleb tried explaining. He was extraordinarily thankful their parents weren’t home, weren’t there to hear the blasphemy coming from their son. “He’ll be fine, really.”

“But you’re covered in plasma,” Lilith sobbed, making Caleb cringe. When Helena was interrupted, she had torn away from her food’s neck, the rip inadvertently showering her and Caleb in plasma. It stained his face, his shirt, his coat. He had tried his best to at least wipe his face, but felt what he missed dry uncomfortably on his skin.

“He’ll be okay!” He tried smiling to reassure her. He said it with conviction, but admittedly wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not; sometimes he saw victims recover, sometimes… he never saw them again. It was normal, he was told. Some people were just weak, and that was okay. And surely, not _that_ many of them died, right?

“I don’t understand.” Lilith shook her head violently, confusedly, and Caleb let go of her out of pity. She slunk back and fell into a dining chair, drooping her head and throwing her palms up to cover her eyes. “It’s not real, it’s not real,” Lilith chanted quietly.

Caleb kneeled in front of her, putting a gentle hand on her arm. “You know Helena. You like Helena, right?” Lilith didn’t answer, so he continued. “It turns out we’ve known vampires for—for years, now, and we never were harmed, were we?”

His sister sniffled. “You’re consorting with the dead,” she bemoaned. 

“Lilith, no.” He shook her arm lightly, prompting Lilith to move her hands and look down at him. She looked miserable, from her ruined makeup to black hair made stringy from anxious sweat. “I’m only helping a dear friend,” Caleb continued. “People need to eat, correct? This is just an… exceptional diet. There’s no inherent evil behind consuming plasma, whether from people or plants or the occasional pigeon…” he forced a small laugh, trying to break the tension. 

“So the stories are true?” Lilith whispered, voice shaking like the rest of her. She looked so frail, vulnerable in a way Caleb barely ever saw of her. He loathed the thought of Lilith hurting, it broke his heart to see his sister so small. 

Lilith! Why hadn’t he thought of her before? She was just as good of a reason as Helena to join the coven, he’d be able to protect her. He knew he had to. 

Caleb looked up at her with newfound confidence. “Some of them,” he nods. “Some are grossly exaggerated, of course. Sure, they’re dead, but they’re not… demons, or ghouls.”

“Have they ever bitten you?” Lilith asked. She wiped her cheeks, trying to regain herself.

Caleb smiled. “No. Never. I’ve never been fed from, and I’m certainly alive. Feel my hands.” He let go of her arm to offer her his palms, and after a second of uncertainty, she took one. He laid his other hand on top of hers. “I’m not exactly frigid, am I?”

“No,” she admitted. Lilith sniffled again and cleared her throat. “You’re warm. So you’re…”

“Alive,” he finished. “See? It’s okay.”

Lilith’s shoulders slumped, exhaustion flooding her as her adrenaline faded. “Okay,” she muttered. 

Caleb squeezed her hand in comfort. “What do you even know about vampires?”

“Not a lot,” Lilith admitted. 

He smiled brightly. “Would you like to learn?”

*

Funny thing about Lilith was that even after almost 27 years as twins, she still surprised Caleb too often. During the months that had passed since Lilith’s revelation, Caleb watched as she soon found herself inserting herself into the coven and adjusting far quicker than he had; and somehow, she made it look far more natural. Caleb would look over at her deep in conversation with the others, and it always struck him how better adjusted she was at it. The difference between them was that Lilith was so much more interested in vampiric politics, history, governance, and lifestyle, while Caleb was just interested in… 

Well, just Helena, really. He couldn’t quite get into it all like Lilith could, but he wanted to be there for Helena’s sake. She needed him, after all. And Lilith was always the more governing of the two, so it all worked out… he supposed. 

Caleb was happy that Lilith was enjoying herself. She had cozied up to Helena’s friends quite quickly; the novelty of having two human friends in the coven was apparently a delight, one that Lilith quickly used to her advantage—from the way she could curl her fingers in Katherine Cave’s hair without her hand being bitten off, she seemed to be doing fine. 

But Helena didn’t seem to enjoy it as much. Something about Lilith’s presence—Caleb could tell it irked her. Helena would brood when Lilith joined them, bear her fangs, be dismissive of her. Caleb didn’t understand it, but it seemed like he alone was forced to deal with it.

One of those brooding evenings, Caleb convinced Helena to a stroll. Anything to alleviate her mood, and get her off Lilith’s back. 

“It’s such a beautiful night, wouldn’t you agree?” He sighed, wistful as he looked up into the starry sky. The early winter months had hit Windenburg, and the harbour was chilled. Caleb wore furs over his frock coat and goatskin gloves to brace the frozen winds, whereas Helena could wander around in her petticoat and not feel a lick of the cold. Caleb forced her to wear a cape over her promenade dress at the very least, lest the pair raise any brows. 

Helena’s scowl was directed at the cobblestone. “When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. When you live your eternity in fear of the sun—nights become tediously mundane,” she lamented.

Caleb exhaled a quiet sigh in resignation. “My dear…” he trailed off, unsure of himself. Better not to argue with the vampire. “Nevermind. Whether it be in the wee hours of the night out here or noon back inside, I’m just glad to spend any time with you.” 

Helena allowed herself to chuckle. “Listen to you, you charmer.”

“It’s true,” Caleb continued. “Every time I see you I’m reminded of how lucky I am to be around you. I know I must say that a lot.” 

“I like hearing it.”

“Good, because I like saying it,” he said. He looked back up into the night sky and wondered—with the ways the stars moved and the moon changed every night, even if he had to spend an eternity in the dark, would it really be so bad? He swallowed thickly, nervous. “Do you remember what I asked of you, a few weeks ago?”

“Caleb Salvadori, I told you to be patient,” Helena chided. 

She was of course talking about Caleb’s request to be turned. He had made his plea to the love of his life, the one person who could ever tie him down, heartfelt and honest. With not a hint of surprise or any hesitation, Helena replied that she’d think about it. Apparently, these things took time—conversing with her master Vlaudistraus, weighing his mortal life, judging his skills… things like that; she had given Caleb a very long list of reasons why she couldn’t just take him then and there, and he couldn’t really remember them all. But he was ever hopeful. 

“I just keep thinking of the years we could spend living lavishly, we and the coven,” Caleb admitted. He foresaw an eternity of parties and hedonism—golden and never ending.

“Hm,” Helena hummed. “I think I’m more interested in the ‘we’ part. Us, Caleb.” Caleb’s heart leapt to his throat as he turned to look in Helena’s eyes, looking at her in complete awe. She took his hands in hers. “Oh—I can’t run away from this any longer,” she gasped. She stepped forward, encroaching into Caleb’s space, so _close._ “Ever since I first saw you, I knew, I _knew_ I wanted you with me, always.”

“My—” Caleb was suddenly breathless, mindless. “Since my party?” He asked lamely.

“Longer!” Helena tore herself away from him, as if embarrassed to confess. “I saw you so often around the city, but the party was the first time I mustered the courage to talk to you.” She placed her hands over her dead heart. “Who would I be if I couldn’t at least wish you a happy 25th birthday?” For a fraction of a second, her eyes went wide. “26th,” she quickly corrected herself. 

Before Caleb could think, she was walking back towards him and swooning into his arms. 

“I’m flattered,” he said quietly, patting her arms. “Um. Pardon me. But did you say—”

“I want to be the one to turn you!” Helena said, reaching up to cradle Caleb’s face in her hands. “I just need to know if that’s what you want. If _I_ am what you want.”

Caleb’s breath hitched. He looked into her catlike eyes, and saw the stars and heavens reflected in them. “You have no idea,” he croaked. “Yes. Yes, Helena.” He felt like a bride accepting a proposal, swelling with emotion and so desperately in-love.

“You will court the night?” She asked. 

“I would court Hell itself, if I had to.” Caleb placed his hands on Helena’s waist.

Her red-painted mouth split into a grin, wide and sharp and dangerous. “You already are.”

She pulled Caleb into a cold kiss, and the world around him melted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> If you're interested in talking about Sims/Caleb/Morgyn/etc., please hit me up at ebenaceae on tumblr. Follow me for updates as well!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampires and their crypts full of secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warnings: temporary character death, actual character death, mentions of fire, emotional manipulation, vampire-related blood things

Lilith placed her hands on Caleb’s as they sat across each other in the Salvadori library. She took a deep breath, readying herself. She had cornered Caleb not much earlier, after their parents had left for town on business. There was something he needed to know, she had said. Something important, she emphasized. 

“I’m not sure how to say this, so I will be unfortunately blunt,” she began. “I have decided that I will be going to Straud Manor in the near future and petition the Count to become a vampire.” She closed her eyes, waiting for Caleb’s reaction.

He took in a sharp breath. It’s not that he wasn’t going to tell Lilith about his own decision, it’s just that he was too scared to… again. 

“Lily…”

She stood up suddenly, pacing the study as she explained herself. “This is what I want, Caleb! You will not be able to talk me out of it so simply,” she exclaimed. “I would never have married a man anyway, and with no family, I would have left father’s business without anyone to tend to it. I never wanted to take over, brother.”

“I know that.”

“I’ve never been encouraged to find what I truly want in life until now.” She turned on her heel to face Caleb again, nervously holding her skirts. “But meeting the coven has been life-changing. The paradigms for what I know have just—exploded.” She swallowed thickly, keeping her gaze on her brother. “Katherine was in a similar situation, you know. Many years ago. She has not regretted her transformation, and neither will I. I will start my own coven, I think.” She sighed wearily, going back to sit by Caleb. She cradled her cheek in her hand, looking off into space. “You do not have to take over the business if you do not want to, I’m sure father will give you more leniency than he did me. Whether you do or not, remember that I’ll always be there for you. I’ll make sure to protect you until you’re grey.”

Caleb paused as he recognized the familiar thought process, and nodded as he started to smile.

Lilith’s worry was replaced with confusion. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would,” she said.

Caleb laughed, grin reaching his eyes. “What if I said I have something to tell  _ you?”  _

The Salvadoris were a whirlwind, and always would be.

*

Helena had taken the news horribly. The screaming didn’t start until Caleb told her that for the first few years he would want to live with Lilith instead. Caleb just could not understand Helena’s anger, nor her insistence that Lilith was ‘ruining her plan.’ What plan? And she really couldn’t feel happy for him, that he’d be less alone? 

For the first time, Caleb walked out on one of Helena’s tantrums.

*

The setup took just another couple weeks. The twins ended up celebrating another birthday before it was over, and as they celebrated in a get-together far smaller than what they had in the previous year, they understood that it would be their last. Years would go on, yes, but all sense of aging would end. 

They would be dead.

Their parents would mourn.

During the party, Caleb and Lilith had pulled their parents aside. It was likely the best time they’d have to say goodbye, and they wanted to make sure they would have one last happy moment together. 

But it was strange. Caleb loved his parents dearly. Why was he doing this to them? He knew he should feel guilt, the horrible gnawing at his stomach that usually came when he thought of disappointing them, and yet—as if by magic, it was prevented. All he could feel when he hugged his mother close was a nostalgic joy.

“My God,” Sybil laughed, stroking her son’s hair. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I understand how terribly distant I’ve been lately,” Caleb sighed into her shoulder. “I wanted to apologize.”

Sybil drew back so she could look at him. Her grey eyes were old and tired but warmed with exceptional fondness as she smiled. “You’re a grown man, Caleb. I cannot stop you if you want your own life.”

Caleb shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “Yes, but…”

Sybil laughed again, looking to her husband. “Could you ever imagine how sweet our children are?” 

Monte smiled in-turn. He was sat next to Lilith, lounging in his smoking jacket as the two shared a bottle of nectar. “Right,” he grunted.

Sybil suddenly clapped her gloved hands, eyes widening in remembrance. "Oh! Dear, have you remembered the gifts?" 

Monte hummed an affirmative and produced two small, unwrapped boxes from his jacket. He gave a thinner one to Lilith, and handed out a cube one to Caleb. 

"Can we open them?" Caleb asked, taking his gift. 

"Please! I want to tell you all about them," their mother said.

Caleb flipped open the box with his thumb revealing a silver, ruby-laden ring laid in black velvet. Instead of ruining it by taking it out of the ring box, he opted to lift the whole thing up for a closer look. The gems held fire as they gleamed from candlelight.

"This is beautiful," he concluded meekly. 

He looked between his parents; his father was putting a necklace of dark pearls around Lilith's neck. "Belonged t'your grandmother," he grunted succinctly. Lilith traced its pendant, ivory-carved, with a hesitant finger. 

Caleb looked back to his mother, who waved her hand in gesture to put his own gift on. Caleb chuckled and complied, finding the ring fitting comfortably on his right hand. 

"Do not think I hadn't noticed your behavior," Sybil started—she surely meant it innocently enough, but it still made Caleb's blood freeze in sudden fear. But, no, she couldn't have known. His worry melted as she continued, "I thought, could it finally be happening? Are my larks finally taking wing and leaving the nest?" She laughed, eyes crinkling as she playfully pinched Caleb's cheek. "I understand if you want to leave. Again, you're both grown, and you are two incredibly capable people. The best of what the Salvadoris have to offer; isn't that right, dear?" Monte muttered his support. "And I said that if you really are about to leave… well, you will certainly need some heirlooms." 

“I love it,” Lilith said, still staring down at her gift with wide eyes. “It was really nonna’s _?” _

Their father placed a hand on Lilith’s shoulder. “It’s been passed down to Salvadori women for a… a long time. You’re intelligent and kind,  _ mio fiore.  _ They would be proud of you, I think.” He scratched his beard. “Your ancestors would be, I mean,” he clarified. “You’ll do the business good.”

Caleb had to keep himself from cringing at the mention of the company. It’d be fine, he reminded himself. An associate would take over when their father retired. It happened to a lot of businesses. They weren’t special.

Caleb was snapped out of his thoughts by his mother’s hand, folding on top of his. She brushed the ring like she was giving it a chaste kiss goodbye.

"Wear this often, my love. It's lucky! My father swore by it. I wore it on a chain for years, and I did meet your father and have you kids, so I believe it too. It will help you find your way, your home, and perhaps... love? Give it to the right person, they'll swoon right into your arms." She gave Caleb a wink, and he groaned. "Don't act like that. We've been waiting for grandchildren."

Caleb bit his lip. He wanted nothing more than to tell his parents what would happen in a week's time, to assure them they'd be okay. Maybe they could meet Helena, maybe they could have those grandchildren. Maybe.

He wished.

"I will certainly see what I can do for you in that regard," he said instead. "I'll treasure it."

It would be a good hundred-or-so years before he even took it off.

*

“Will it hurt?” Caleb asked in a whisper, taking in the giant manor in front of him, dark and foreboding. The concept of meeting Count Straud was terrifying. Yes, it was all planned, but what if something went wrong? Could he change his mind—prevent Helena from turning Caleb, or refusing to turn Lilith? What if Straud hated them? What if they  _ liked  _ them? Caleb’s stomach churned as anxiety flooded him.

Helena sighed, stopping halfway up the manor’s steps. She turned and looked at him down the length of her nose. “It won’t matter,” she said dismissively, in a hurry to see her master. She was clearly excited, prim and proper and dressed nicer than Caleb had ever seen. Her ball gown was of dark satin under a silk bodice, rigid and formal. She was set to meet the queen if she so wanted. “Whether you do or not, it will be over quick,” she added.

Caleb nodded, resigning himself. As Helena hurried inside, he returned to their carriage to help Lilith out. The twins were in nice clothing, but plain; they wore the dress they would ultimately be buried in. 

Lilith got her footing on the ground and gave Caleb a sad smile, looping her arm in his. “Don’t be scared,” she said quietly. “I can see the worry on your face. You don’t want rigor mortis to set in on you while frowning, do you?” She joked, lighthearted. 

“No,” Caleb agreed, letting his clenched jaw release. “I suppose I don’t. I’ll have all the time in the world to worry about nonsense after everything’s said and done.”

“Perhaps death will be good for you. You’ll finally get a few good nights of rest,” Lilith hummed. Their turning would take a few days, in which their bodies would be returned home and buried in a Salvadori grave. Exhumation would be done before the soil settled, and no one would be the wiser.

“Yes, well. You’ll be the first one to know if death rids me of the bags under my eyes. Now come along before they decide to have us for dinner instead,” he said, and they began to walk towards eternity.

*

Less than a week later, Caleb’s eyes flitted open. He stared up towards an unfamiliar parquet ceiling—ostensibly Vladislaus’, if he was brought back after his internment, as according to plan—and breathed shallowly, finding that he didn’t really need to. He felt stiff, but not sore. He could tell that the air was cold, but it had no effect on him. He laid and wondered about how he was reacting to the temperature for a few minutes before realizing that in all the time he was awake, he failed to feel his heart beat once.

Oh.

It was over, then. He… he struggled to remember what had happened.

Caleb attempted to move, but found difficulty doing so. The stiffness permeated his body, and he had trouble even flexing his fingers. 

“Take your time. Your joints will warm up soon enough,” a feminine voice said. “Figure of speech, of course.” Caleb hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t alone—he tried to look over to where he thought Helena was, somewhere on the bed beside him, but could only move his neck so much. 

A hand reached over his torso and placed itself on his arm, rolling his body so he laid on his side. He groaned slightly, feeling the queasiness of an empty stomach. He tried to focus on Helena; she looked ethereal, in nothing but a short lace nightgown, but Caleb couldn’t concentrate on anything in particular to appreciate her.

“Did it hurt?” Helena asked teasingly. She placed one of his hands on her bare hip, Caleb noting the lack of warmth between them as unfamiliar and disconcerting. 

“Can’t remember,” Caleb managed to mutter, despite his creaking jaw. His tongue brushed against one of his canines and the new sharpness of it legitimately surprised him. It was all too real, but all too strange. 

“I told you so,” Helena said. She moved closer, chest-to-chest. She ran her fingers through his hair, making Caleb flinch from hypersensitivity. Helena laughed, apparently charmed. 

One of her hands went down to his neck, and poked at… oh God, he had puncture wounds. They burned under her touch. He cringed, closing his eyes.

“Come, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Helena asked, before leaning in for a kiss. All Caleb could feel, however, was his own body screaming at him in numbness and fear. 

*

Satiating the thirst for plasma was the worst part for Caleb. It was a horrifying experience, realizing how much he craved to rip into the neck of a warm-blooded creature. Bird, deer, person—it hardly mattered, as long as he could squeeze it and drain it. That’s why he and Lilith weren’t allowed outside of the hollow for a while; training their thirst so they wouldn’t attack the first human they saw was a gruesome must. 

Once he was satisfied the twins weren’t about to tear his coven apart, Count Vladislaus disappeared into his lair, allowing his vampiric offspring to do as they pleased. 

It was humiliating for Caleb, really. He felt like a mongrel under the watchful, scathing eyes of its owner. His hands would shake as he was retaught manners, how to act polite in the presence of plasma. They threw ‘nectar’ parties—Helena and Katherine and Markus and all the others who came around would laugh and joke about the ‘nectar’ while Caleb and Lilith struggled to train themselves how to be around so much of it. 

“Smells like a Champs Les Sims... 1896, 1897?” Helena hummed, appraising a goblet of plasma. Caleb didn’t know where they got so much of it for these events. “Incredibly fresh. Cheers, my dear,” she grinned, holding out her cup for Caleb to toast.

He stiffly stuck his own cup out, a slight tremor in his hand. The goblets clinked, and when given permission to drink, Caleb pulled it back to his lips in desperation. He was a greedy drinker, something he knew he had to control, but for the time being he was thankful to have any plasma at all.

Helena wrapped an arm around his waist, cooing gently. “Look at you, so messy. You’ll waste so much if you can’t contain yourself.” Before Caleb could say anything, she was kissing away the spilt plasma from the corners of his mouth. 

*

Dressed in mourning gear, about two months after their deaths, Caleb and Lilith were finally allowed to visit Windenburg again. The twins had wanted to see their graves, a morbid curiosity taking hold. What did their inscriptions read? How were their deaths explained? Did the Salvadoris pay for a particularly lovely part of the cemetery? How often did their parents mourn?

And… their parents. They wanted to see their parents. From afar. Just a glimpse to say goodbye.

Lilith and Caleb wanted to be alone, but Helena insisted on joining them to the city. She won the argument in the end, but frustratedly agreed to keep her distance. At first Caleb thought she was only tagging along in case he and his sister reacted poorly to the humans around them; but as they arrived at the cemetery and stumbled upon their plot of land, Caleb knew why her presence was mandatory.

On a particularly large, newly-polished granite monument read  _ Salvadori,  _ and beneath it weren’t two, but  _ four  _ names and dates. Loving father, doting mother, precious daughter and son, treasured by all. A lengthy poem was carved into the stone below their singular day of death; the 26th of May, 1897. 

Lilith wailed as the realization struck; Caleb fell to his knees on the barely-settled earth in a sudden bout of dizziness. He didn’t realize he was crying until salty tears dribbled into his mouth. Lilith latched onto him as she dropped as well, forcefully burying her face into his shoulder. He held onto her tightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the ruby ring on his finger. 

When Caleb looked up, he saw Helena in the distance, drenched in moonlight, staring.

*

Plans had changed at the last minute. It turns out that fire was a far easier explanation; a family trapped in their stately home, tragedy consuming them in flame. Four remains, unrecognizable; if two of them hadn’t actually been the children, who would have known? It turns out that their parents had apparently known too much. And somehow it was far, far safer this way.

For the first time, Caleb wasn’t hanging onto every word Helena spat. She could call him her pet all she wanted, but dogs could still bite back. Caleb knew, as his throat clenched and fists balled, it was just a matter of time. 

*

In the immediate couple of decades after the twins’ deaths, Caleb only thought of blaming himself for his lackluster passion towards Helena. His love for her burnt out far quicker than he ever thought possible. He had spent so much time trying to win her praise, to get her to care. She had only allowed him to touch her and love her after he had died, but now that he finally could… 

God—it killed him to even have the thought, but he wondered why he wanted her so badly in the first place. 

He thought himself disgusting. How dare he go back on his word now? He had promised to love her and protect her for the rest of time. He said he would always be there for her, and he  _ knew  _ she was expecting his help, and every day she would glance at his heirloom ring and he—he was going to propose, one of these days, he’d get down on one knee and—he was going to do it, goddammit.

They were  _ forever,  _ they were  _ always.  _

*

(He thanks himself every day for not ever marrying her.)

*

Caleb attuned to his own powers over the years. It had taken practicing for about 30 before he could be considered a novice. There was a mixed bag of benefits and difficulties; he trained how to resist the sun, but struggled with things that might help his hunting—by some archaic vampiric magic, he was unable to cross the energies of a threshold without permissions. 

It took a while to develop any powers of note, as he was reluctant to become… less human. It didn’t help that Lilith had convinced him to sever their human names. Vatore—that was Lilith’s suggestion. It was a name they had unofficially adopted back in the ‘40s, just in case. It wasn’t quite Salvadori, but it was close. Close enough to not worsen Caleb’s mood.

He had fallen into a deep pit of his own emotions. He was often either sad or simply emotionless, and unwilling to partake in any of Helena’s  _ activities.  _

It frustrated Helena. Which made Caleb feel worse. However, Helena decided to teach him one of her own abilities, something that she thought might cheer him up. He learned how to create an aura of vampiric allure around them to attract mortal prey. To seduce them, then drink from them, which Helena apparently found glee in.

The funny thing was; the pheromones only worked on mortals. 

And Caleb had begun feeling nothing for her back when he turned, all those years ago. 

Caleb’s heart sunk.   
He really thought he had loved her.

*

It took him  _ sixty fucking years  _ to leave. Sixty miserable years of being her doting  _ minion.  _ Hardly a lover, hardly an afterthought. 

Caleb hadn’t even wanted to join the coven, not after learning how awfully they thought of and treated humans—learning  _ that  _ didn’t take long, but he had internalized it for so  _ fucking  _ long, just like he treated all his other doubts and anxieties. So he and Lilith put it off for sixty years, but it was merely a blip in their masters’ lives, and they couldn’t escape it forever.

He had ruined his and Lilith’s initiation, he was beaten by Vlad, he was beaten by Helena. Miss  _ Hell,  _ she wanted to be called. She was unrecognizable, compared to the small woman he had met all those decades ago. 

He ached so deeply. He was cut and bruised and injured, yes, but all he could feel was an empty despair in his chest. Disgust, disappointment. A hatred directed at his own stupidity. It wasn’t that he didn’t know; he knew for so long, but couldn’t come to terms with it.

Fuck.

They couldn’t return to their own residences, now that they were ostensibly banished… the twins had agreed there was no point in trying to convene with Miss Hell or Kat after the incident. So Caleb and Lilith decided to lick their wounds just outside of Windenburg, close enough to feed, far enough from encroaching on other territories. Nowhere near Helena.

Just as well, Caleb supposed. He was already on the verge of anguished, angry tears, he couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he went crawling back to his… ex? Master? 

Ex-master?

It didn’t matter. All he wanted to do was sleep for years and years, for the rest of his immortal death.

*

Lilith brushed her brother’s hair, humming an unfamiliar song. 

It was the new year, and they were enjoying the first few days of 1970. Lilith was big into the music scene that had emerged, and she dressed accordingly, with her hair long and clothes airy—all appropriate, except for her necklace, of which she hardly ever removed. Music played from her record on a shag-carpet floor, with its flowery notes and spiritful guitars and language of peace. Caleb hardly understood the evolution of music in their time, but he was happy that Lilith was happy. The music scene had also given him an excuse to grow his hair back out to his shoulders after having to keep it short-cropped for  _ far  _ too many decades, if you asked him. 

So Lilith brushed it, the twins much accustomed to each other’s grooming routines, mirrors obviously not an option for them due to their infliction. She stopped when her record ran out of song to play, floating over to flip the vinyl to its second side. It was moments like these where Caleb was just a little less sad, where he forgot how much he missed being human. 

Lilith smiled at him, floating back to put his hair in a braid. “Cheer up, little brother,” she urged. “I can see your thoughts weighing down your brain, and it's bumming me out.”

“Cut me some slack,” Caleb sighed. “This is the fifthteenth time you’ve played that album this week, Lils. I’ve got reason to be upset.”

“Shut up,” Lilith snorted, giving his hair a gentle tug. “You’ve gotta get out more, daywalker. It’s new and it’s  _ good.  _ You’d hear it more out in town than you do cooped up in here.”

“That’s exactly why I  _ don’t  _ go out,” he grumbled. This made Lilith laugh, and he could just feel her roll her eyes at him. 

They were forced back to Forgotten Hollow only a few years after they went independent. Tensions between the occult groups of the world were heating, and territories were cut small. He heard aliens were to blame, wildly enough. Didn’t matter to him—as long as the other vampires of Forgotten Hollow maintained their wide berth around those damn hippie Vatores. 

He felt...  _ almost  _ normal. Aside from having to sustain himself on plasma packs.

“Listen, little brother. I was thinking—we’re kind of our own coven, aren’t we? We don’t need any ancient fancy rituals, right?” Caleb’s smile fell, but still offered an affirmative grunt. “We’re the Vatore coven. Not part of any bullshit establishment, no ancient creeps breathing down our necks. And look at us.” She paused for emphasis, expecting Caleb to look at her. He did not. “We’re thriving.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caleb argued.

“I know you don’t think so,” Lilith said gently. “But things’ll get better. People are starting to be nicer, music is getting better every year…” she trailed off, letting her thought hang. 

“I guess,” Caleb tried.

“Come on, blackbird. I mean it.” Lilith finished his braid, floating back to appreciate her work. A beat past. “Can I tell you something?”

Caleb looked over his shoulder at her. “Always could.”

“I’m just glad I’m not alone.” 

They hung there for a moment, the record filling the empty air between them. There were probably a hundred other times where they’ve admitted as much before, but every time there was a pause in which they remembered that otherwise, they really were  _ alone.  _ So much had changed since they died. Dress, language, music, themselves. They’d just have to face it head-on, no matter what happened in the decades, centuries to come. 

Caleb opened his arms. “Love you, Lils.” 

She floated into them and let the record play. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support I've gotten for my Sims fics. It's wholly unexpected but I appreciate it so, so much.  
> Let me know what you thought of alouette! I love knowing what people think. I love the Vatores, but all vampires need a hefty dose of angst.
> 
> As always, you can reach out to me on tumblr @ ebenaceae.


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